


got an angel on my shoulder and mestopheles

by sky_reid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Bisexuality, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Costumes, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, F/M, Fraternities & Sororities, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, I'm so sorry, M/M, Open Relationships, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Sexuality, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and is talked about so, but a lot of sex does happen, it's a halloween party you get the idea, like really bad, oh i almost forgot, one direction boys make cameos, pining kind of i guess, there's not a lot of explicit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where castiel is an angel and dean is a demon but it all works out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got an angel on my shoulder and mestopheles

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory halloween fic yey
> 
> i haven't written in this fandom in ages so i have no idea what i'm really doing here but i haven't posted anything in a while so i figured why not. you might have to suspend your disbelief on some things because all i know about american universities and fraternities is what hollywood and wikipedia have told me oops
> 
> also a bit of background info that didn't (explicitly) make it into the fic: dean and cas are in third year, dean is 23 and studying economy while cas is 20 and studying literature (idk that any of that is particularly relevant but now you know). this all turned out a lot more sombre and a lot less halloween than i'd planned, must say.
> 
> if any of you are into 1d enjoy the boys' appearance (and the minor harry/louis(/zayn?) moment)
> 
> the title is from onerepublic's _love runs out_

 

_got an angel on my shoulder and mestopheles_

 

Halloween happens to be on a Friday. Blessing and a curse, really. Dean has classes all day Friday, will undoubtedly be tired by evening, but at least he doesn't have anywhere to be tomorrow. There's a paper on Japanese economy he needs to write for Tuesday and a presentation he needs to give on Friday but Dean's never been good at keeping on top of his schoolwork and he doesn't see a reason to start trying to now. He's always managed to get by. Maybe he can rope Sam or Cas into helping him.

 

He should really be focusing on Algebra since he's dangerously close to failing it. So is Ash though, and he's the one distracting Dean by making the pros-and-cons lists for attending each of the four major parties happening on campus.

 

“ΑΚΛ is probably gonna have the best booze. They have this Scottish kid, I trust him to supply only the best.” He pauses, like he's rethinking that. “Well, I trust him to supply the _most_ , but you know.”

 

Dean hums noncommittally. “Not a lot of space, though. Last time we ended up sleeping outside on the grass.”

 

Ash snorts a little too loudly earning them some dirty looks from their neighbors. “You mean, making out and then passing out,” he corrects, his voice still a little too loud. Dean shrugs. It's true, after all. It's also true that no one gave them shit for it which is why ΑΚΛ has a special place in his heart. He still doesn't much like the idea of sleeping outside in this cold though. “Can always go with ΨΣΦ. Hear they've been stocking up on the weed,” Ash suggests, like _that_ is the argument that's gonna convince Dean. The smile Ash is giving him is knowing and teasing, though, like he already knows what Dean is going to say and why.

 

Dean tries very hard to continue to appear indifferent when he nods, mumbles, “Yeah, sure.” For a moment it looks like Ash is gonna say something else, but in the end he just shakes his head a little and keeps smiling until the class is dismissed and Dean is rushing back to his dorm because he knows Cas will be back from his morning classes by now.

 

*

 

It's not like Dean is a complete moron entirely out of touch with his feelings. It's closer to a bit of an idiot somewhat out of touch with his feelings. It's why, back in high school, it took him three years of going out with virtually every one of the cheerleaders to figure out that he'd really rather jerk off to the football team's captain. It took another two years of freak outs and several stern talking-tos from Sam to  _accept_ that he'd get his hands on dicks just as happily as he'd get them on tits, but he's fine with it now. Hell, Sam didn't even have to drag him to Pride a few months ago (but he did, because Sam is the best brother  _ever_ ).

 

So it's not the sexuality crisis that's stopping him this time, it's that (as Sam so eloquently put it one drunken night that he forgot and Dean pretended to)  _Dean_ _like,_ likes _likes Cas, as in writes poems about his eyes and wants to have his babies_ (“That was  _one_ time and I was  _really_ high!” Dean grumbled over Jo's howling laughter). And Dean, quite frankly, isn't sure what to do with that.

 

He's been in love once before, or at least he thinks he has. It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now because he was 17 and you don't meet your life partner/soulmate at 17. You might at 23 though, so this is different.

 

The funny thing is that Dean doesn't know if they would even be friends if they hadn't been randomly paired to be roommates. They study different things and move in different social circles and are different people. When they first moved in it took them a week to find something to talk about other than the weather. Dean didn't like it how Cas kept looking at him, his head tilted and eyes shrewd, like he could see through all of Dean's bullshit right down to his core, didn't like the little crinkle between Cas' eyebrows whenever Dean whined about not being smart enough for university (always only half-joking and he thinks Cas knew that right from the start), didn't like the twist to Cas' mouth when Dean talked about never having been in a relationship (like he could tell Dean didn't think he was deserving of one). Cas didn't like... Well, Dean thinks Cas didn't like much of anything about him at first.

 

It's different now. All the things about Cas that used to set Dean's nerves on edge are what makes his heart race now and all the things that used to make Cas frown now make him talk to Dean instead so Dean figures it's all good, they're friends (who sometimes share significant looks and moments charged with sexual tension, it's a thing, it's fine). And yeah, maybe Dean wants them to be more but he's also terrified of fucking up the potential  _more_ so maybe it's better that they're stuck at this weird stalemate after all.

 

Cas is indeed in their room when Dean gets there. He's gluing the fake feathers to the plastic skeleton Dean helped him build last week. Dean tries not to think about how much shit he's going to get from Ash when he sees him and Cas in matching costumes.

 

“Hey, Cas,” he says, replacing his Algebra book with his econ notebook and shoving a sweater in on top of it.

 

“Dean,” Cas replies solemnly, not looking up from the wings. They're almost done from what Dean can see, only the top layer of feathers missing from one of them. The navy blue powder paint Cas told him about is sitting on a stool next to the bed, a large fluffy brush sticking out of it and a jar of black glitter leaning against it. Dean kind of can't wait to see the finished result.

 

He really doesn't have any excuse to hang around, is already late as is what with his class being on the other end of the campus, but he can't seem to take his eyes away from the little frown of concentration marring Cas' face. “So,” he says awkwardly. Cas hums. “You going to the ΨΣΦ party tonight?” Like he doesn't know. They're the only fraternity parties Cas ever goes to. Dean's heard his manifesto against the Greek system enough times to repeat it, but most of Cas' friends are in ΨΣΦ or dating members of it so Cas usually tags along.

 

Cas does look up then, his eyes crinkling a little in the corners in what Dean has long learned to recognize as amusement. The only thing he says, though, is a simple, “Yes.” They're both silent for a while until the corners of Cas' lips twitch just slightly upwards. “Will you and Sam be there?” he asks.

 

“And Ash,” Dean replies.

 

Cas tilts his head to the side, the way he always does when he's analyzing something Dean is doing. Dean tries not to fidget. “Are you still going as a demon?”

 

Dean feels the back of his neck flush and covers it with his hand. “Yeah.”

 

Cas' eyes go soft and he offers Dean a proper smile before going back to finishing his wings. “I'll see you there, then,” he says. Dean thinks his voice is laced with more than just amusement.

 

*

 

Dean tries not to feel ridiculous in Sam's black skinnies, bunched ridiculously around his ankles, and the mesh top Anna dyed for him in reds, oranges and yellows. It's kinda difficult with Jo giggling every time she looks away from where she's applying seemingly endless layers of black eyeliner around his eyes. His palms are rested on his thighs, sweating. He's not nervous. He's  _not_ .

 

“Nervous?” Sam asks.

 

Fuck. Dean manages something close to the indignant snort he was going for. “What's there to be nervous about? It's a party. Booze, weed and sex.”

 

“And a pretty boy you want to kiss,” Jo teases.

 

Dean huffs. “Whatever.”

 

Sam plops down on the armrest of Dean's chair. He pokes at the surprisingly realistic looking fake horns that Jo somehow managed to procure. Dean knows what's coming a second before Sam asks, “So do matching costumes mean that you're finally gonna... do something?” And really, why did Dean ever think any of them would politely keep their mouths shut?

 

Well, if they're not gonna play by his rules, he's sure not gonna play by theirs. “No idea what you're talking about, kid.”

 

Sam snorts (Dean's not sure if that's a reaction to his playing dumb or the ill-fitting nickname), but it's Jo who speaks. “Honestly, Dean, you've been smothering us with this tension for over a year. I'm not sure how much longer any of us are gonna last before we lock you two in a cupboard.”

 

“Mature,” Dean says, though he really wouldn't put it past them.

 

“You're one to talk,” Sam laughs just as Jo taps Dean's shoulder to signify that she's done with his makeup. Dean immediately reaches out to pull on Sam's eyepatch and let it slap against the skin loudly. “Ow!” Jo just laughs at them as she turns around to check out how her own hunter's costume looks. Dean lets his eyes settle on the curve of her ass, the way her cargo shorts hug it and just barely cover it. He figures if he ends up sleeping with her again at the end of this party, that's still a good outcome.

 

*

 

They find Ash already most of the way to drunk, his ridiculous tiger costume unbuttoned, a cup of something smelling absolutely foul in each hand and a pretty girl in his lap. He grunts and waves in their general direction before he's distracted by something she does to his neck. Jo goes to join Anna on the balcony, nicks a joint off of some guy Dean doesn't recognize before abandoning them in the crowd. Dean's eyes are already watering from the combination of cheap black contacts and the sickly sweet smoke. He wipes at them before remembering that there's sticky crayon around them. Ah, whatever. Most people around him are already too drunk to even notice, let alone care.

 

He loses Sam soon after that (he finds him later, a hand down the front of Ruby's cowgirl costume and a bottle of vodka on the floor next to them; Dean laments not having drunk enough to black out prior to getting that particular image burned into his retinas). Some obnoxiously loud Irish kid in a leprechaun costume presses a bottle of tequila into his hand. Dean gives it a considering look, then shrugs and takes a swig. He scans the crowd, telling himself he's checking out everyone's costumes and not looking for sparkling navy wings. A tall, broad-shouldered and decidedly (and very obviously) male Miley Cyrus is making out with a missing member of  _Kiss_ in the corner, a dreamy-looking Aladdin giving them a fond smile through the smoke coming from his cigarette. The leprechaun is stumbling around, handing out booze and joints like they're candy. An awfully sober Superman is stocking a condom bowl.

 

Dean takes another sip of tequila. The taste is horrendous but the burn in his throat is welcome and familiar and a few more pulls from the bottle have tension Dean didn't even realize was there seeping out of his body. He moves through the rooms slowly, hindered by sweaty bodies. He pauses occasionally to dance with cute guys and girls or exchange a few shouted sentences with classmates.

 

He's pleasantly buzzed and relaxed by the time he reaches the back porch. The air is cool on his skin and the music is not making his head pound as much out here. A football player and a cheerleader are making out against the fence and Dean would find it ridiculous if he had a leg to stand on but Cas is sitting on the stairs and Dean doesn't think he gets to judge anyone wearing matching costumes right now.

 

The wings turned out stunning, perfectly symmetrical and huge without looking heavy; the tops of them are almost black, glistening beautifully in the moonlight, the navy of them fading gradually and leaving the bottom feathers white and untreated. The harness holding them is almost disappearing into the light black button-down Cas is wearing. If Dean didn't know better, or maybe was more drunk, he'd wonder if maybe Cas really is an angel.

 

He sits down next to Cas and puts the tequila on the step below them. Cas' eyes flick over to him for just the briefest second; his lips quirk but he goes back to studying the sky. There's silver eyeshadow blending into the skin around his eyes and whimsical swirls of pale glitter extend over his temples and cheekbones, smudged at the bottom. His shirt is untucked at the front and the buttons are done the wrong way. Even without the light smudges of ash on his black jeans Dean would be able tell that Cas is high, his eyes alight with it and his shoulders relaxed; a fluidity to his movements that isn't usually there gives away a sated calm that Dean's only seen when Cas returns to their room with the first light of dawn, having spent the night somewhere else. At least that explains why there was glitter all over Crowley even though he was wearing just his signature black suit instead of a costume (“I'm too _cool_ for costumes, Winchester,” Crowley had said on Dean's first Halloween here).

 

Dean doesn't know the specifics of Cas'  _thing_ with Crowley, but he knows it exists. He knows it's not serious, it's not a relationship, they're not boyfriends; Cas has been on quite a number of dates in the time Dean's known him and he's seen Crowley sucking on the faces of way more people than he'd like. He also knows that sometimes Cas spends the night in Crowley's apartment and comes back with hickeys on his stomach and scratch marks on his back. Cas never offers any information about it though, nor does he ask about Jo or Ash, so Dean keeps his questions to himself.

 

They sit in silence, Cas looking at the stars and Dean looking at him, until Cas rasps, voice even deeper than usual, “You look good.”

 

Dean looks down at himself, the tight jeans and the surprisingly not tacky shirt. “Thanks,” he says. “My makeup's a mess, I'm sure.”

 

Cas gives him a mischievous smile. “So's mine.” He picks up the bottle of tequila, smells it before taking a tentative sip. He makes a face at the taste and shakes himself a little when he swallows. “Tasty,” he comments dryly, then offers the bottle to Dean.

 

*

 

Dean is not quite as spectacularly drunk as he'd need to be to justify running his fingers lovingly through the feathers of Cas' wings. “You do know I can't  _actually_ feel them, right?” Cas asked after a while, but he didn't move so Dean didn't stop. His fingers are smudged black with eyeliner and he doesn't even want to know how messed up his makeup is by now. He'd lost one of his contacts at some point so he took the other one out. He takes comfort in the fact that at least he still looks like a demon and isn't lying flat on his face in a pool of his own vomit (like some).

 

“It's late,” Cas comments, leaning a little closer to Dean. He's been tagging along with Dean, going along with most of Dean's suggestions for party activities and getting steadily more drunk as the night progressed. Neither of them has taken a sip since settling onto the couch almost an hour ago though and Dean's unpleasantly sober and aware of how close Cas is sitting, the heat of his body and the flex of muscle when Cas moves.

 

“Mmhm,” Dean agrees, even though it's not really. Cas doesn't seem to have anything else to say, just stands up and inclines his head towards the door. Dean's never left a party with Cas before, especially not a party that's not even over yet, but Cas doesn't wait to see if Dean is following. They pass Jo and Anna cuddled on the grass outside and neither of them comments about the way they can see Jo's hand moving under the blanket covering them.

 

They walk to their dorm in silence (except for Cas' quiet comment of, “Quite a pair, we are,” which Dean doesn't know what to make of anyway), their hands brushing every few steps and Cas' wings like a protective shroud over Dean's back. It's freezing cold, but Dean's side is burning where it's close to Cas'. There's something in the air, a kind of nervous tension and Dean can't decide if it's positive or not.

 

They walk into their room and Cas chuckles sheepishly when he has to go through the door sideways because his wings are way too big to fit otherwise. Dean drops heavily onto his bed, spreads his arms out and closes his eyes. He's not tired but he can't keep looking at Cas, not now that they're in a room and he can hardly breathe from this weird charged feeling he gets when Cas is too close. His head falls just off the bed and if he opened his eyes, he's sure he'd see the upside down image of Cas undressing. He shouldn't be thinking about that when he hasn't drunk enough to suffer from whiskey dick.

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels dry lips pressing against his own and a gentle hand on the side of his neck. It's not how he imagined his first kiss with Cas – it's upside down and they both smell of sweat and alcohol and Dean's eyes fly open and the only thing he can see is the light stubble extending down Cas' neck. And then it's over.

 

Dean sits up so fast he thinks he pulls a muscle. He's sure there's something he wants to say, but he can't seem to make his throat work. Cas is looking at him with a blank expression, the only sign he's affected at all the way his fingers twist in the sheets. “Okay?” he breathes. Dean can barely hear it from how quiet it is. He fights the urge to touch his lips like a kid getting kissed for the first time. Cas must see the answer in Dean's face because the next second he's climbing onto Dean's lap and Dean's hands find his naked waist like they belong there. He's not sure his heart's ever beaten faster.

 

*

 

When Dean wakes up the next morning, Cas is still asleep next to him. He's not nearly as hungover as he expected, but he is pleasantly sore and still too asleep to freak out about it. Cas has always been a light sleeper (but apparently not a cuddler because it's Dean who's wrapped around him like an overgrown koala while he lies motionless on his back) so Dean's extra careful when he untangles himself from Cas' body and the sheets and heads for the bathroom.

 

He looks like a mess. His hair is sticking out every which way and the black eyeliner from last night is smudged over his entire face. There's an angry bite mark on his collarbone and light bruises littering his hips and  _god, he slept with Cas last night_ .

 

He makes the mistake of jumping in the shower to clear his head and suddenly everything seems even worse. He has no idea what this means for them, can't even decide what he  _wants_ it to mean, isn't sure if he's ready to risk their friendship for a relationship he doesn't know how to have. By the time he's getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist he's halfway to having thought of both a  _we can't do this_ and a  _will you marry me_ speech.

 

Cas is sitting on Dean's bed, thin sheets pooled over his lap and Dean feels a wave of arousal hit him at the knowledge of what's underneath them. Cas' face is unreadable in a way it rarely is in front of Dean.

 

“Do you remember last night?” Cas asks flatly and oh, that stings a bit. Neither of them was nearly drunk enough to forget and the out is so obvious Cas might as well have asked him if he wanted one.

 

He swallows around the lump of nerves in his throat. He's not proud to admit that he does consider saying  _no_ . “Yeah, do.” Cas relaxes back against the pillows and smiles like the question was some kind of a test that Dean passed (it probably was). Dean stands in the bathroom door awkwardly. He swears he's usually smoother than this.

 

“Is this gonna be awkward now then?” Cas asks, addressing the ceiling more than Dean. Dean wonders when people younger than him became so much more mature than him. “'Cause I'd really prefer it if we did it again.”

 

Dean's stomach does a funny flip. His voice sounds a lot steadier than he feels when he says, “Yeah, yes. Sure.”  _Smooth, Winchester_ .

 

Cas snorts at him but doesn't comment. Dean's grateful. He thinks he should probably sit down, so he does. His knee nudges Cas' and Cas smiles. “I'm not really looking for anything serious,” he says pointedly. It sounds suspiciously like Cas isn't really talking about himself. He gives Dean a lopsided grin like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking (he probably does). “We can keep it casual and see where it goes. Maybe one day it could be something more.”

 

“Maybe,” Dean agrees. He's pretty sure Cas can tell he means _yes._

 

“Good,” Cas says with a small nod. He gets up and heads to the bathroom but not before giving Dean a quick peck on the lips.

 

*

 

“What are we going as this year?” Dean asks, digging through the pile of clothes on Cas' bed. Cas' eyebrows go up slightly at the pronoun; Dean doesn't correct it.

 

“I don't know. You've always been partial to supernatural creatures. Maybe vampires?”

 

Dean leans into the hand Cas has on his back. “Maybe,” he agrees. He goes in for a kiss, but Cas turns his head away so that Dean's lips scrape over the stubble on his cheek.

 

“Maybe we can go together this time?” Cas suggests, lips at Dean's ear. Dean can tell that's not what he's really asking.

 

“Maybe,” he replies with a grin. Cas pushes him back onto the unmade bed they've been sharing for the last few weeks and that's all they speak of it.

 

 


End file.
